


Property of Dr. R. McKay

by zellieh



Category: SGA - Fandom, Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Angst, Ass Play, BDSM, Biting, Bondage, Claiming, Cock Rings, Collars, Comeplay, Commitment, Cuddling and Snuggling, D/s, Established Relationship, Fingerfucking, Kink, M/M, Marking, Mathematics, Orgasm Denial, PWP, Pinned, Porn, Porn Without Plot, Rimming, Sex Toys, Spanking, cockring, collaring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-23
Updated: 2009-12-23
Packaged: 2017-10-05 02:17:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/36715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zellieh/pseuds/zellieh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rodney leaned back in his desk chair and openly, lustfully, admired John's body. John's eyes crinkled at the corners as he smirked and put one hand on his hip, teasing. Rodney caught John's gaze and licked his lips, letting John see how much he wanted him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Property of Dr. R. McKay

**Author's Note:**

> Minor spoiler for season 2: fic mentions Ronon. Beta'd by [](http://xanthelj.livejournal.com/profile)[**xanthelj**](http://xanthelj.livejournal.com/); all remaining mistakes are my own.  
> Crossposted to [](http://community.livejournal.com/sga_noticeboard/profile)[**sga_noticeboard**](http://community.livejournal.com/sga_noticeboard/), [](http://community.livejournal.com/mckay_sheppard/profile)[**mckay_sheppard**](http://community.livejournal.com/mckay_sheppard/), [](http://community.livejournal.com/50kinkyways/profile)[**50kinkyways**](http://community.livejournal.com/50kinkyways/) and [](http://community.livejournal.com/atlantiskink/profile)[**atlantiskink**](http://community.livejournal.com/atlantiskink/).

Rodney slid the desk drawer closed, and moved on to the storage closet in the corner of his bedroom. A few minutes later, he blessed his years with the US DoD as he found what he was looking for; all that well-founded paranoia was finally paying off. He walked back across his room to his desk, and sat down, rolling the insignificant scrap of fabric nervously between his fingers. He still winced when he remembered the first time they'd talked about this. That is, John had talked and Rodney had asked what turned out to be very stupid questions until John said, "No! It's not like that at all! Geeze, McKay!", and walked out. He was almost certain he'd got it right today. Well, unless... No. He was right. He was. John wouldn't walk out on him this time.

Rodney put the fabric down, and surreptitiously rubbed his damp palms dry on his jeans. He looked over at John, sitting cross-legged on the floor, gloriously naked, but he hadn't noticed anything. Rodney shivered and reached down to adjust himself; he was already half-hard, and John hadn't done anything except take his clothes off. John, bless his surprisingly submissive little soul, hadn't even asked why Rodney wanted him to unpick a seam on his wristband; he'd just stripped naked, sat down, and got on with it. Rodney hadn't actually asked for the naked part -- he was still getting used to this, and tended to forget things when he got nervous -- but he wasn't about to object, even if it did feel weird to be fully-clothed (and not, say, having really hot sex) when John was in his room, naked.

Rodney rubbed at the tense crease between his eyebrows, and admired John until he felt calmer. John, naked in his room, like one of his fantasies in living colour. If his fantasies included less vanilla and a lot more kink, anyway. His back twinged; he could feel himself tensing up again. He ran his eyes across the familiar map of John's scars -- the bite mark on his neck, the blue knot on his right arm, the gunshot wound high on his left biceps, and all the others -- until he felt slightly less nervous.

Well, time to get started. Rodney swallowed, cleared his throat, and said: "Is it done?" He remembered just in time to make his voice hard; make it a demand, not a request. It was so hard to be harsh, when being with John made him feel so...soft. And who'd believe that the ever-irascible Dr. McKay, scourge of labs in two galaxies, would need encouragement to be more domineering?

John nodded silently, eyes cast down.

Hmm. Rodney had told John that he preferred verbal responses, so John's silence could be a deliberate provocation. Rodney thought back over the last few times they'd played. Had he been too soft again? He really wasn't good at this stuff. He could bawl people out with the best of them when he felt angry or terrified, but when he was with John he just felt...soft. Calm. Dammit. Well, John needed him to be hard. Time to pull out the big guns.

Rodney closed his eyes, thought of Kolya, knives, and rain, and whip-cracked: "What was that? I didn't hear you! Answer me!"

John's head snapped up, his face startled. Damn; maybe Rodney had overdone the harshness - remembering Kolya always left him feeling unbalanced. "I, I'm sorry, Mas-, uh. It's, it's finished. I've done it, just the way you told me to, sir."

Sir. God, Rodney hated being called 'Sir.' It made him think of his father, which was not a thought he wanted to be having in any sexual situation. Still it was -- marginally -- better than the alternatives. Having John call him Master just made him laugh; a naked John calling him Doctor made him think of Carson and prostate exams; and if John just called him Rodney, he'd never, ever, be able to answer to his own name again without blushing. 'Sir' came naturally to John, and Rodney would do whatever it took to keep John with him for as long as possible, even if that meant answering to 'Sir.'

"Bring it all over here." He waved at his desk, and John stood and walked over, hips swinging, showing off a little. Rodney suppressed a smile as he ordered John to stand still. This part, Rodney understood. He leaned back in his desk chair and openly, lustfully, admired John's body. John's eyes crinkled at the corners as he smirked and put one hand on his hip, teasing. Rodney caught John's gaze and licked his lips, letting John see how much he wanted him, stroking his own erection through his pants, watching as John's dick hardened in response. He nodded at the floor next to his chair, and John stepped forward and knelt down beside him, laying his wristband and sewing kit on the desk.

"Give me your hand." He took the needle John had been using, pricked John's finger with it, and pressed it against the little strip of cloth he'd found earlier. Then, meeting John's eyes and holding his gaze, he licked the blood off John's finger, drawing the tip into his mouth and sucking it lightly. He watched John's eyes widen, pupils darkening as he licked his lips and began to pant. Rodney slowly, teasingly, pulled John's finger out of his mouth, licking and nibbling at it, and then covered the tiny wound with a plaster and a kiss.

Then, pricking his own finger, he covered John's blood with his, mixing them, marking and staining the white cloth red. He held his finger to John's mouth and fought to control his breathing as John sucked, licked, and nibbled at it, before sticking the plaster on and kissing it better. Rodney picked up the strip of cloth and handed it to John, trying hard to be casual, distant and harsh, but his voice cracked as he barked "Sew it inside your wristband, and make sure the stitches are neat!"

John stared at the tiny piece of fabric in his hand, blinking, fingers tracing over the blood-stained nametag again and again. **'Property of Dr. R. McKay.'** Then he looked up at Rodney through his eyelashes, and Rodney sighed as he met John's tear-bright eyes. He knew he was too soft-hearted to be what John needed, but sometimes it was so hard... He opened his arms, pulled John into his lap, and stroked his hair as John curled into him, silently, pressing his face into the crook of Rodney's neck. John put one arm around Rodney's waist, his other hand clenched into a white-knuckled fist around the nametag, and pulled up his knees until he seemed to be trying to crawl inside his lover.

Rodney could barely breathe; John wasn't fat, but he wasn't light either, and Rodney knew he'd have bruises after this. It was worth it, though. John was worth anything. Everything. He stroked John's back, his hip and thigh, held him tight and rocked him slowly, crooning soft nonsense in his ear. He ran his hand through John's hair, massaging his head, soothing him. Times like these, Rodney wanted to break the laws of physics just so he could reach through time and space and beat John's parents with the biggest hockey stick he could find.

A few long minutes later, John squirmed and sat up, leaning his forehead against Rodney's. John's eyes were softer than Rodney had ever seen them, but his voice was very serious as he said, "I'm sorry." Rodney's heart stopped -- he'd got it wrong again; he'd upset John; John was going to leave and find someone who could do this right, give him what he needed without constantly messing it up the way Rodney did...

But John was still talking, saying "I've been bad. I didn't obey your order instantly, and I, I lost control. I need you to punish me," and Rodney's heart started beating again. He'd got it right, of course he had; he was a genius, after all. Giddy with relief, he kissed John's forehead and slapped him on the thigh. Rodney knew exactly what John's favourite punishment was. "Get up. Go to the end of the bed, and kneel down, facing the window." John didn't need to be told twice, following Rodney's orders perfectly, already flushed with arousal and breathing hard. Rodney stood and moved until he was standing directly behind John, but not touching. Then he began to strip in complete silence, watching John quiver in anticipation as he listened to Rodney's clothes rustle as they fell to the floor.

Rodney remembered the first time John had diffidently admitted to liking rough sex. He'd blinked and said, "Okay," because, what the hell? The sex was great, and he already got all kinds of bruises following John off-world. A few more in the bedroom would hardly make a difference, and if that made John happy.... "Okay," he'd said, "as long as it's not every time," and "I'm not really into pain, or blood. No blood, okay?" And John had smiled at him so happily Rodney almost stopped worrying about the pain. He'd been shocked later when he found out what John really meant by 'liking sex a little rough sometimes'. "Wait. What? You mean, you want me to hurt you? I thought," and John had frowned at him, blinked, and then suddenly looked furious. "What, McKay? You thought I'd..." and Rodney had had to look away, because fuck, it looked like he'd blown it again. Then John had said, "Dammit, Rodney, no! I wouldn't, I would never," and kissed him.

Naked, Rodney stalked around until he was in front of John. He felt a little silly, but John liked it, and he liked it when John looked at him with desire. His eyes flickered from Rodney's face, to his chest, and down to his cock, and John licked his lips. Oh, yes, Rodney knew what John's favourite punishment was, but he wasn't going to let John rush him, no matter how much he teased. Not this time. He sat on the bed facing John, and grabbed him by the hair at the back of his neck, one handed. John was panting hard now, face and chest flushed, and eyes almost completely black.

"You've been bad, John. You lost control," Rodney shook John lightly, for emphasis, and John used the movement to inch forward a little, closer to Rodney. Rodney pretended not to notice, continuing, "You need to prove that you can control yourself, John, and I'm going to help you with that." John moaned provocatively, and snuck a hand out to stroke Rodney's ankle. Rodney smacked him lightly. "John! No touching unless I tell you to!", and John straightened, saying, "Sir! It won't happen again, sir!"

Rodney would have laughed if it hadn't been out of character, because John touched him, and promised not to, every damn time. Rodney hardened his face and his voice, and said, "You're not allowed to come until I tell you to, John. And because you've been such a bad boy, I'm going to make you wait. Do you understand?"

"Sir! Yes, sir!"

"Open your mouth, John."

John blinked and licked his lips, and Rodney watched as he thought it over. This wasn't how they usually did things; usually Rodney ordered John to suck him off, but let him control the mechanics. Things were going to be different from now on, though. If John wanted him to be a Dom, then he was going to do his best to do it right, dammit. John opened his mouth a little, and Rodney frowned assessingly at John, planning his next move.

"Wider."

John obediently opened his mouth wider, and Rodney nodded to himself as he grabbed John's hair in one hand, holding his dick with the other. He pulled John's head forward and stuck his dick in John's mouth almost roughly. John started to overbalance, and caught himself with a hand on Rodney's thigh. Rodney slapped it away, hissing in annoyance, grabbed Johns head in both hands, and snapped, "Suck!"

John whimpered and moaned around Rodney's cock, his face flushed with arousal, stretched lips shiny with spit. John started touching Rodney, stroking his thighs and belly. Rodney moaned, and then remembered himself, and snapped, "Hands behind your back!" He didn't know much about this stuff, but he was pretty sure subs weren't supposed to be as pushy as John was. "Both hands, John!" John obeyed him, sucking harder, moaning enthusiastically, and God, there was no way Rodney could last with John doing that to him.

He pulled out of John's mouth, shaking, and said, "Stand up. Now." He looked John in the eyes and carefully positioned himself for the move John had spent weeks teaching him. Twisting around, he unbalanced John and threw him down onto the bed. John tensed for a moment, eyes startled, and then relaxed into the fall. Rodney couldn't stop himself from smirking a little smugly at the way he'd surprised John as he used his weight to pin his lover to the bed.

He reached over John's head and pulled the thigh holster off the headboard, watching as John's pupils dilated. They'd talked about this -- or, rather, John had talked, and Rodney had listened. He knew what John wanted, what he fantasised about...but he also knew about the nightmares. So he dangled the thigh holster seductively in front of John's face, and gave him a choice. "I'm not sure if you deserve this, but you have been very bad, haven't you?"

He twisted it easily on and off one of John's wrists, watching him to be sure he understood how to get in and out of it if he had to. Rodney knew enough to know this wasn't about binding John's body, anyway; if he did it right, John would bind himself with his own desires. "What do you think, John? Have you been bad enough to deserve a little punishment?"

Eyes never leaving the straps of the thigh holster, John nodded enthusiastically and offered up his wrists to Rodney.

Rodney used a move Ronon had taught him then, flipping a startled John over onto his face and tying his wrists to the headboard, pulling the straps tight. Rodney's hands slipped, slick with sweat, and John fought him for a moment, straining against the straps; then he calmed as his fingers found the catches and held on. He wriggled once, deliberately, as he settled himself, and started to moan. God. Those moans were going straight to Rodney's dick. John, naked and panting and writhing under him, desperate. God, _John._ Rodney had to take a moment to recite Mersenne primes in his head and slow his breathing.

Rodney trailed his fingers delicately down John's spine, his touch so light as to be almost ticklish, and watched John tremble under his hand. John rubbed himself wantonly against the bedsheets, his fingers tense on the thigh holster, and his ass-muscles clenching. Rodney hesitated for a moment, and then gave into temptation and smacked John's ass, saying, "Hey! I told you: you're not allowed to come until I let you!"

John gasped and quivered all over, and Rodney worried he might have gone too far, but then John tilted his hips upwards, invitingly, and it was Rodney's turn to gasp. John wanted... John liked... Rodney bit his lip, and then smacked John's ass again. John moaned, "Rodney," and Rodney smacked him again, hard and fast, 1-2-3-4, watching the red handmarks rise on John's skin. His handmarks, all over John's ass. That looked so hot. He grinned to himself, a little evilly; this Dom stuff was fun.

He stood up and raised John to his knees on the bed, pulling his legs wide open until he was in the perfect position, trying to ignore John as he flexed and moaned at Rodney's touch. He knew if he tried to fuck John now, he'd last about half a second, he was so close, so he deliberately backed off. He fetched the jar of oil, aware of John's eyes following his every move, and then sat down on the bed directly behind John, where he was sure John couldn't see him. He smiled at his own desperation and tried to relax, breathing slowly and silently, knowing that the uncertainty and anticipation had to be driving John absolutely nuts by now. Right on time, John twisted, trying to get a clear look at what Rodney was up to. Rodney just smiled and decided to make him wait a little longer.

He ran his hands over John's warm, reddened ass, rubbing and stroking, then ran his hands up John's flanks, laying kisses along his spine. Pulling his hands back to John's hips, he held him still with one hand while he used the other to spread John's asscheeks wide, making John twitch and squirm. Rodney loved the way John moved in bed, especially when was desperate like this. He leaned forward and lay a kiss in the small of John's back, nuzzling at the sweat-slick skin. John whimpered, and his muscles flexed under Rodney's fingers.

Rodney licked his lips -- he wanted to taste John so much -- and leaned forward to lick at the small of John's back, the crease of his ass, John's asscheeks warm against his face, his stubble scraping and catching against the sensitive skin. John's hole fluttered against his tongue, and John groaned, long and low. Rodney closed his eyes at the lush sound, licking harder, and clamped down firmly on his own desires: this wasn't about him, this was about John. John, who wanted to be driven out of his mind, driven beyond his limits, forced to let go of his fierce self-control, forced to give in. John, who'd chosen Rodney, trusted Rodney with this, to do this for him, to see him like this.

God, the feel of him when he was like this... Rodney gasped as John writhed against him, and pulled back, breathing hard. He wasn't going to last much longer, and nor was John. He reached for the oil jar, and teasingly trailed the cool ceramic up John's inner thigh, making John's thigh muscles jump and twitch. Leaning forward against John's back, enjoying the slide of skin-on-skin, the occasional scratch of hair, the feel of John's muscles shivering, and the tremble of his breath, he nipped at John's ear, tugging and licking at the soft-firmness of his earlobe, and breathed in his ear, "I'm going to fuck you now."

John shuddered, thrust his hips back against Rodney, helplessly, and started begging. "Please-please-please, now, Rodney, please."

Rodney smiled to himself and slicked his fingers, making sure John could hear the slide of flesh on flesh, then plunged in, two fingers at once, hard and fast. John whined, and then demanded, "More, Rodney, fuck me now, fuck me," and Rodney pulled his fingers out and smacked John's ass again, hard. John winced, and twisted to look at Rodney, startled.

"You wanted me to be in charge, John -- that means that you'll get what I give you, and thank me for it. Now, be silent!"

John frowned, and Rodney wondered if he'd pushed it too far, pushed John too far... John turned away, his hands twisting at the straps of his thigh holster. Rodney opened his mouth to apologise; he'd beg if he had to...and then John settled back down, back on his hands and knees on the bed, legs spread wide, his ass in the air...and then he dropped down to his elbows, resting his head on his forearms. Rodney bit his lip against a whimper, closed his eyes for a moment, blew out a silent breath, and rolled his shoulders, relaxing. He opened his eyes again, and shuddered at the sight before him. _Mersenne primes..._

Rodney picked up the jar of oil and slicked his hand up again, thumbing John's hole; John was ready, slick and loose. He took John's hips in a firm grip and slid in, slow and gentle. John squirmed and twitched beneath him, around him, and Rodney knew that he'd be biting his lip to hold back demands that Rodney 'go harder and faster, dammit.' John liked speed, but this time Rodney was going to take his time and enjoy it, stretch that wonderful feeling of being inside John out as long as he could.

"You're not allowed to come until I tell you to!" Rodney took a deep breath, reminded his cock that it wasn't allowed to come until he told it to either, and set up a slow and steady rhythm, going deep, and angling his cock to brush against John's prostate with every thrust. John's breath whined, high and sharp, and John clenched and quivered around him. Rodney closed his eyes and savoured the feeling. Right now, in this moment, he owned John, and it felt glorious.

Rodney kept it up as long as he could, but finally, long after John had started tossing his head against the pillow, breathing in great gasping pants, long after Rodney had surprised himself with his own self-control and stamina, his rhythm faltered, and he leaned forward, putting his weight on John's shoulders, holding him, down, and whispered in his ear, gently, "John, you can come now."

Before he'd even finished the sentence, John's entire body clenched around him, his back arching into a bow as he screamed out his release. Rodney shuddered at the intense sensation, gasping, and gave into his own pleasure, thrusting selfishly, mindlessly, John's body still quivering deliciously around him, dragging his release from him in that wonderful, terrible instant when his thoughts stopped and the world went away.

Rodney shuddered and collapsed against John's back, and John collapsed down onto the bed, sighing and stretching luxuriously. Rodney wrapped his arms around John's chest, and kissed the nape of his neck, licking at the salty skin and smiling as he blew some of John's hair away from his face. John made a purring 'Mmmm-mm' noise, and Rodney remembered there was something he had to do...before he could sleep, something important...he frowned to himself, and reluctantly raised his head. His laptop caught his eyes, but no, that wasn't it...it was something else... John made a sleepy complaining noise, and Rodney shushed him, and then he saw the straps, black against John's wrist, and smacked himself on the forehead. He was so bad at this! He unsnapped the straps and rolled John over so he could check his wrists.

Looking at John laid out before him, golden skin glowing against the white sheets, Rodney could hardly believe he'd got so lucky. He swore to himself -- again -- that he would not do anything to fuck this up. He knew he could be crap at relationships, but this time... this time he was going to do everything he had to to make it work. John's wrists were a little reddened, but Rodney knew the marks would fade by morning. One of John's fists was clenched tight, and he protested muzzily as Rodney gently uncurled his fingers. Rodney blinked at the nametag he'd given John, startled, and let go of John's hand. John's hand snapped closed around the nametag and he clutched it to his chest. Rodney blinked again, and then reached out and prised the scrap of cotton out of John's fist.

This time, John eyes snapped open, and he grabbed for the nametag. Rodney smacked his hand away, and John made a little noise of protest, eyes pleading. Rodney smiled at him, reassuringly, and leaned forward to kiss him. He was so beautiful, and now that he was Rodney's, Rodney was never letting him go. It seemed John still needed to be convinced of that.

He knelt up over John's hips, and raised the fabric to his mouth, licking and sucking the taste of John's sweat from the cotton. John's eyes widened again, and he whimpered as Rodney slowly drew the cloth out of his mouth and wiped it across the sweat on his own neck and down his chest. Keeping his eyes locked on John's, he scraped the tiny strip across his stomach, through his pubic hair, and into John's. John whimpered again as Rodney stroked the nametag through the mix of come on John's stomach, and Rodney smiled as John shivered beneath him. John's body tensed even more as Rodney slowly -- oh, so slowly -- stroked the wet material up John's hairy chest, across his dog tags, and along his sensitive neck.

John's eyes were black and frantic by the time Rodney's fingers reached his mouth and dragged the material across his lips. John moaned as Rodney pulled the fabric away from his mouth, and he gasped when Rodney growled "Open!" his jaw snapping open instantly. Rodney dangled the little strip of fabric into John's mouth, and said "Taste it!" in a voice neither of them quite recognised. "Suck it hard!" John curled his tongue around the cloth and suckled, his fingers twisting in the sheets as he fought to keep his body still. He sobbed when Rodney pulled the strip of fabric out of his mouth.

Rodney hooked a hand around John's neck, pulled him up until they were face to face, and dropped the nametag into John's hand. He growled "Sew it in. Now!", and saw John's hand fist around the cloth. John jumped up off the bed, and turned towards the bathroom; Rodney usually liked him to clean them both up after sex.

"NO! Don't you dare try and wash me off your body now! You're MINE!" Rodney yelled, surprising himself as much as John. It was just -- John was coated with Rodney's sweat and come, and his skin was covered in reddening fingerprints and bite marks and scratches that Rodney had put there...

"Fetch everything you need, and do it right here!" Rodney snapped, and patted the sweaty tangled sheets on the bed. Their bed. John nodded and moved around the room quickly, shooting Rodney sideways looks from under his eyelashes. It took Rodney a moment to identify the emotions in John's eyes. Something powerful and passionate. John looked -- happy?

Suddenly, something clicked into place inside Rodney's head, something he should have realised weeks -- months -- ago. This - it wasn't about being yelled at for John -- it wasn't just a game. It was more than that -- it was about feeling cared for. Loved. He knew he loved John. Maybe John loved him, too?

Rodney was stunned. For a genius, he could be so stupid sometimes. He felt the bed dip as John sat down beside him, cross-legged, setting out his sewing kit. Stark naked and marked all over, obeying Rodney's order without question; trusting him. Trusting Rodney to know what he, John, wanted, and how to give it to him. But that trust wasn't a one-way thing. If John loved him, then maybe he, Rodney, could trust that John would give him whatever he wanted, if he just asked for it. Of course, he'd have to ask for it in the right way…

Rodney cleared his throat and, heart beating too fast, firmly ordered John to stay still. John obeyed, not moving as Rodney folded himself around his lover until he had John between his legs, back to Rodney's chest, Rodney's arms wrapped around his waist, one leg wrapped over John's lap, and the other tucked under one of John's knees. John could be so untouchable at times; but now Rodney really understood the rules, he could touch John as much as he wanted to. Rodney squeezed his arms tight around John, touched him all over, rubbed his chest against John's back, and licked and nibbled at the nape of John's neck. John shuddered in his arms, and Rodney wasn't sure he'd ever be able to let him go again.

It wasn't a comfortable position, but Rodney didn't much care as he leaned his chin on John's shoulder and looked down at the nametag in John's hands. Rodney turned his head and licked John's ear, nuzzling at his sweaty hair, breathing in the scent of sex, tasting the salt on John's skin. He pulled away slightly and whispered: "Do it. Do it now, here, with me wrapped around you, in our bed," and bit down sharply on John's earlobe. John gasped and jerked in his arms, grabbed his wristband, and started sewing.

John sewed the nametag into his wristband neatly, just the way the Air Force taught him to, and Rodney couldn't help but smirk. He was pretty sure he wasn't the only one appreciating the irony; John had a healthy disrespect for authority sometimes. "Just think, next time you have to smile and shake Caldwell's hand, you'll have my mark on your wrist." he said, stroking one hand through the hair on John's chest, the other cupping and petting John's soft cock and balls possessively. John huffed out a soft laugh at that, and Rodney smiled a kiss into his shoulder.

John finished sewing and tidied away the little sewing kit, offering the wristband up to Rodney. Rodney held it and looked at it, stroking the soft black fabric, examining it thoroughly as he continued to stroke and pet John with his free hand. He knew how important this was to John, and was surprised to find that it was important to him, too. He didn't want to rush this moment, and he really liked being able to hold John like this. Once John put the wristband on, Rodney would be able to cuddle and snuggle John almost as often as he wanted to.

Finally, he unwound his arms from John's waist and slid his hands down to John's hips. "Up."

John stood up quickly and gracefully, and Rodney struggled up behind him, slightly regretting the pretzel-like position he'd bent his body into when he was hugging John. He faced John, looking into his eyes, trying to see the man behind the masks. He thought this might be the real John , but it was always so hard to tell. He'd always been bad at reading other people, and John was like Russia -- a riddle wrapped in a mystery inside an enigma. Rodney had _really_ hated Russia. He looked at John, and down at the wristband in his -- slightly sweaty -- hand. Last chance to back out, for both of them. He looked at John, searching his face for something, and said, "Tell me what this symbolises. When I put this wristband on you, John, what will it mean?" Damn; he'd meant that to be an order, not a question. Slipping; he was slipping.

John ignored his slip, though, answering promptly, "Ownership. Commitment. I'll belong to you, sir."

"Are you sure about this, John?"

John smiled and nodded, "I'm sure, sir."

Rodney looked at him carefully - this was important, after all. He still wasn't really into all this stuff, but he knew John was. John looked...happy. Really happy. Actually, he looked like he was on Carson's good drugs, the way his eyes were glazed. Rodney frowned and pinched one of John's nipples, hard. "Are you sure, John? Honestly? And, uh, I'm ordering you to answer that."

John yelped and slapped Rodney's hand away, frowning at him, sharp-eyed. "Yes, I'm sure! Geeze, McKay! Way to ruin the mood!"

Rodney laughed and slid a possessive hand around the back of John's neck. "Prove it. Kiss me."

Rodney pressed his lips against John's mouth and enjoyed the momentary illusion of control before John took over, the way he always did when they kissed. He could feel one of John's hands on his ass, and the other gripping his head firmly, and he gave himself over to John's kiss, moaning into his lover's mouth. He felt John smirk against his lips, and nipped gently at his tongue; his susceptibility to John's kisses was not a laughing matter, no matter how much John teased him about it. Eventually he managed to pull away, dipping back in for one or two last licks. He stepped away from John reluctantly, and focussed determinedly on the wristband until he had his breathing back under control.

"Hand, John." Rodney held out his own hand, twitching his fingers impatiently. Grabbing John's wrist, he worked the wristband past John's long fingers and over his knuckles. He had a bit of trouble with John's thumb for a moment, and then the wristband was snug around John's wrist, looking exactly like it always did. Rodney blinked at it for a moment, and then looked up at John, who was smiling the biggest, happiest smile Rodney had ever seen on his face. A tension Rodney hadn't even been aware of suddenly released itself, and he beamed back at John, feeling giddy and light-headed. He laughed, a little shakily, and hugged John, who froze. Rodney nuzzled his face into the crook of John's neck and ordered John to hug him back in a slightly muffled voice. John tensed, and then relaxed, and then -- finally! -- hugged him. Rodney smiled happily against John's neck. _Yes._ He felt John's wristband soft and scratchy against his back, and finally relaxed. John. John was _his._


End file.
